


To Get Rid of Temptation

by medusine



Series: Playing with Fire [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Silver, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Prompt Fill, Silver's red socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 17:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12845889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: Flint's willpower proves to be no match for Silver's advances, however much he hates to admit it.





	To Get Rid of Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for [jaune-clair](http://jaune-clair.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr: “It’s not my fault I’m so devilishly handsome”. Set somewhere in Season 1.
> 
> The title comes from the Oscar Wilde quote: "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it".

That little shit of a cook was doing it on purpose.

Ever since he'd weaselled his way into Flint's crew with the promise of the schedule's page, he'd been all bright blue eyes, gleaming teeth, and impossibly smooth golden skin. Flint caught himself watching him more often than he cared to admit, and not only because he liked to know what the little fucker was doing at any given time.

Today Silver had managed to get himself wet. A wave had broken against the starboard side just when Silver was crossing the deck. Now Flint had to endure seeing his flimsy white shirt plastered against his chest, sheer and showing off toned muscles. Not that he was looking at him. The image was burned into Flint's mind.

“Grog, Captain?”

“What?” Flint snapped.

Silver didn't walk, he sneaked. Flint had been scanning the horizon in search of their intended prize, a ship carrying cocoa and sugarcane to Florida; he'd all but jumped when Silver's voice rung out behind him.

“It's a hot day, thought you could do with some refreshment. D'you want me to fetch you some grog?” Silver flashed Flint a winning grin, and a wave of heat surged up in Flint's chest.

“I'm perfectly capable of fetching my own grog,” Flint growled at him, trying not to look at the drop of seawater that was hanging from one of Silver's curls, glinting in the sun. Too late. He saw it land on Silver's collarbone, slide into the dip at the base of his throat, and run down inside his shirt. Flint caught himself touching the tip of his tongue to his lip, as though he were tasting salt.

Silver had the audacity to chuckle. “Fine, fine. Forgive me for asking.”

Flint grunted and took up his spyglass once more.

“And… are there any other things that I might offer you?”

An irritated tremor went through Flint at being interrupted once more by Silver and his disgustingly charming voice. He turned on him, taking three steps towards him. Silver backed away but didn't entirely lose that fucking grin of his. The fucker had no respect, that was for sure. The only thing keeping him alive were those coordinates he'd memorised.

“You're going to stop this right now,” Flint thundered at him.

“Stop what, exactly?” Silver was still moving backwards, and Flint followed.

“This. These attempts to ingratiate yourself to me. Your fucking smiling. Let me tell you, you are _not_ improving your chances of survival.”

“Christ, is a man not allowed to smile, on this ship?” And Silver flashed his teeth again. Flint ached to wipe that smile off his face with his own lips.

“I'm not talking about other men, here, I'm talking about you.”

A door was coming up behind Silver, the door to Flint's cabin. How the fuck had Silver managed to back himself against Flint's fucking door?

“Well, what's the difference between me and the rest of the men?”

Flint made the fatal mistake of looking Silver over meaningfully.

“Oh.” Silver laughed, and Christ, the way he threw back his head to reveal his throat when he laughed sent a shiver down Flint's spine. “Surely you don't mean to punish me because you like the way I look.”

Flint simply glared at him, heat creeping up his throat now, likely colouring his cheeks. God, he hated how his complexion always gave him away.

“That's a bit unfair, don't you think?” And still Silver was smiling, casually leaning back against the door. “I mean, it’s not my fault I’m so devilishly handsome.”

That did it. Flint's hand moved of its own accord, reaching beneath Silver's arm and opening the door. Silver barely hesitated before he backed into the cabin. Flint was weak. He was weak, and Silver was playing him, but he couldn't take any more of this. Besides, Flint suspected that the moment Silver was _actually_ confronted with the consequences of his flirting, he'd bloody well put an end to this stupid game and make himself scarce from then on.

Silver stood still in the middle of the cabin, and Flint could see him tremble slightly. Exactly as he'd expected, Silver wasn't going to go through with this. Flint closed the door, making a show of bolting it harshly, and turned to Silver with a withering glare. He'd be damned if he didn't intimidate the little fuck before he let him out.

Their eyes met. Silver took a deep shaky breath, swallowed hard, and then stepped forward. Flint barely had time to blink before Silver was on him, pressed up close and covering his mouth with his lips, hands grabbing Flint's coat. Flint let himself be drawn into the hungry kiss, chasing after Silver's lips with tongue and teeth, winding his hands into the soaked fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck!” Flint ground out as he broke off to catch his breath. His heart was hammering nearly painfully under his ribs.

“Yes, that's the general idea,” Silver said with a chuckle. He was still pressed up close against Flint, his hard cock heavy on Flint's hip.

“I like you better when you don't speak,” Flint snapped at him, sliding his hands down Silver's back and onto his arse. God, it was a great arse, pert and round and muscular.

Silver gasped against Flint's throat. “Sorry, _notoriously_ bad at not speaking.”

“Your bloody shirt's soaking wet,” was all Flint found to answer to that. He may have been distracted by the way Silver's teeth glanced against his skin and his hands danced over Flint's chest through the light linen, stinging where they brushed over the gash Singleton had left there.

“Well, there's an easy solution to that, isn't there?” Silver took a step back, pulling off his shirt in one deft movement. He tilted his head, as though realising something. “My trousers are probably rather wet too, come to think of it.” He gave Flint the wickedest grin as his hands went to his belt.

Flint lunged for the belt, claiming Silver's mouth again as he unbuckled it, sucking and biting at his lips while he unbuttoned his trousers. Silver's skin was still damp from the wave that had caught him. Still salty, too, Flint discovered when he roughly applied his tongue to Silver's throat and earned a gasping moan. His skin was as luscious as Flint had imagined it, hot, soft, nearly vibrating beneath his touch.

Silver moved, guiding Flint along with him by the hips; Flint followed, hands half down Silver's trousers, the tips of his fingers brushing over his cock. The trousers fell away as Silver moved towards Flint's desk. Flint's eyes watched as Silver kicked them off, which left him standing in his shoes and a pair of bright red socks.

“Really?” Flint couldn't help but ask with a sneer in his tone.

“What?” Silver followed Flint's gaze down to his feet, all the while toeing off his shoes and socks.

“I have never met someone as ridiculous as you.” Flint's cutting remark fell flat, on account of his being absolutely breathless as he watched Silver's muscular belly stretch when he lifted himself up onto the desk.

Silver chuckled, a throaty, filthy sound. “If you'd rather make remarks about my socks than fuck me, then by all means–”

Flint cut him off with a devouring kiss, seizing his shaft in his hand, running his thumb over the wet tip, drawing moans from Silver's throat and more slickness from his cock as he stroked and squeezed slowly. He was dizzied by the thought that, whether or not this was some trick to gain favour, Silver was actually getting just as worked up as he was. Flint _knew_ what it looked like when someone was putting on an act to please someone. This was no act, he was rather sure of it.

“Oil's in the top left drawer,” Flint growled into Silver's ear, still working his cock in his palm. Silver's arms were shaking, but he still managed to stretch back onto the desk and reach for the oil. Flint couldn't take his eyes off him, all taut muscles quivering under golden skin, his cock a dusky shade of pink and so fucking tempting.

But Flint couldn't suck him off, nor could he demand to be fucked, exquisite as Silver would feel inside him. Fucking the cook into submission was one thing for a ship's captain, but letting him get the upper hand – and truly, Silver was already frighteningly close to getting it – was too dangerous to even consider.

Silver shifted back towards him, and Flint let go of his cock to take the little vial from his hand.

“That looks like good stuff,” Silver commented, as Flint pulled off his rings and slicked his fingers. He didn't bother to answer, hooking one of Silver's knees over his shoulder to get better access to his arse. Silver shivered beneath him. “What is it, olive oi–”

Flint smothered his lips in kisses, nestling between his thighs so that Silver's cock was trapped between them. He recognised someone who was launching into a nervous babble, but from the soft groans that started escaping Silver's mouth as they kissed and rutted together, Flint had successfully distracted him. Silver squirmed a little when Flint's fingers found their way into the cleft of his arse, but barely resisted when one of them found its way in.

“I'm trying to picture how you'd justify keeping olive oil to yourself,” Silver suddenly continued, just as Flint had taken to nibbling down the side of his throat while he worked Silver's arse with two slicked fingers. “The Spanish love the stuff and it doesn't come cheap, so I imagine you'd sell it off–”

Flint glared down at him. “D'you want this or not?”

Silver gave a bright, brittle grin. “I do… god I do,” he gasped breathlessly. “Just– don't hurt me, all right?”

Flint rolled his eyes, and by way of an answer, dug both fingers into that bundle of nerves within, rubbing firmly until Silver started shuddering and keening under his touch.

“Ah… I… I think I get your point, Captain,” Silver said, his voice tight and high. A trail of precum glistened on his belly; Flint longed to taste it.

Soon, Flint had unbuttoned his breeches, just enough to free his cock. Silver was letting out a constant stream of moans and whines, fucking himself on Flint's fingers, and made a frustrated noise when Flint removed them. He didn't complain for long, not after Flint pressed the head of his cock to his entrance and slid inside.

“Christ, _Captain_ ,” Silver breathed, his mouth forming a perfect O.

“I beg of you. Shut. Up,” Flint ground out between clenched teeth, fighting to stay perfectly still. If he moved he was going to come within instants, squeezed in Silver's tight heat.

This only elicited soft laughter from Silver, who squirmed on the desk, shifting for a better angle, bringing his other leg up against Flint's chest. His curls were spread all over one of the maps, sweat beaded on his chest, and his hands reached up to grab the lapels of Flint's coat. Flint helped Silver move even closer to him, and _Christ_ the noise Silver made when the angle shifted!

“Yes, god, yes, right there,” Silver gasped, throwing his head back.

Flint had to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe for a moment. Sweat ran down his back under the two layers of clothes he wore. His hair had come undone and strands stuck to his face. And while Flint took slow, trembling breaths, Silver was gasping and panting softly beneath him.

“Will you just… fucking try and stay quiet?” Flint murmured as he thrust slowly into Silver, savouring the feel of him, watching his eyes slip closed and his mouth hang open. How wanton he looked, his lips bruised, his chest heaving with barely controlled gasps. It felt like ages since Flint had seen anything like this, since he'd _wanted_ this fucking much. His whole body was pulled taut like rigging in the storm, the tension threatening to make him snap.

Silver dragged Flint down by his shirt, kissing him breathlessly. Any remaining control fell to pieces. Flint's hips started moving in a relentless rhythm, each thrust drawing moans from Silver – so much for his being quiet – moans that grew louder and louder in Flint's mouth. Dripping with sweat, choking with mounting lust, Flint found Silver's plump cock and wrapped his hand around it. The tension in his balls pulled into a tight coil.

“Fuck!” Silver breathed, his cock all but pulsing in Flint's hand, shuddering beneath him. Precum slicked Flint's palm as his hand moved to the same sharp rhythm as his thrusts. Silver's fingers dug into Flint's back through his shirt, clinging, pinching, bruising. Flint raked his teeth over Silver's throat in response, squeezing his cock hard.

Silver came with a hoarse gasp, his seed spilling in long lashes across his belly. The sight of it, more even than the feel of Silver's body clenching all around him, sent Flint over the edge. He came like a thunderclap, his entire body shaking under the force of it.

When he finally regained some control over his limbs, and his mind stopped swimming in the heady dizziness of climax, Flint withdrew carefully. Silver was lying slack on the desk, panting, lips curled in a distant smile. He was a sight, for sure. But then, Flint had thought he was a sight the moment he'd become aware of Silver's existence. Pity he was as trustworthy as a fucking snake.

Flint cleaned himself up with some water from the basin, then wrung the cloth out, dipped it again, and handed it to Silver. Silver seemed mildly surprised, but took it as the invitation it was to clean himself up and get the fuck out.

“Well, back to the galley for me,” Silver said, buttoning up his trousers. “If you ever, you know, _need_ something from there…” Silver's face broke out in a toothy grin, before pulling his shirt over his head.

Flint rubbed a hand across his face. “This was a terrible idea.”

Silver laughed, bright and cheery. “You're right there. Probably the worst idea I've ever had. Most dangerous, too.”

“So why the fuck did you come looking for this?” Flint noticed, with a distaste that bordered on fondness, that Silver was putting on those terrible red socks again.

“Well. It's not my fault that _you're_ so devilishly handsome, Captain, and rather impossible to resist.”

Before Flint could find an appropriately scathing retort, Silver waggled his eyebrows at him and sauntered to the door.

“If you think I wouldn't kill someone I fucked, you sorely underestimate me,” Flint shouted after him, but the door had already closed. Silver's chuckle as he left the cabin echoed in Flint's mind for a long while.


End file.
